A Song For Murder
by Janet2
Summary: Steve is involved in tracking down a serial killer who has a unique way of choosing his victims.


Disclaimer: The characters from Diagnosis Murder do not belong to me, I have merely borrowed them for a while. The italicised snippets of lyrics in this story are from 'Mack the Knife' written by Weill / Brecht / Bliztstein in 1928, originally from The Threepenny Opera. No profit is being made from this story. This story was inspired by the song and has been sung by many artists over the years notably Frank Sinatra and, latterly, Robbie Williams. Ever since I heard it again on Robbie's recent album I have had thoughts and ideas floating around in my head and this story is what emerged. Please let me know what you think, good or bad. Janet  
  
  
  
A Song For Murder  
  
It was the rhythmic but persistent tapping that woke him. Reluctantly opening his eyes, Steve looked around half expecting the source of the noise actually to be there in the room with him. It wasn't but, once awake, Steve quickly pinpointed where it was coming from. It was right above him. Somewhat groggily and a little irritated Steve threw back his covers, pulled on some clothes and padded up the stairs. As he got closer to the root of his disturbance another sound penetrated his consciousness. Music. To be specific, Frank Sinatra. Looking at his watch Steve groaned. Frank Sinatra at 7 am. What was his dad thinking? Reaching the landing at the top of his stairs Steve walked through the lounge and stopped at the double doors that led out onto the decking. The sight that greeted his eyes was one that was very familiar. To the strains of Ole Blue Eyes Steve watched his dad happily tap dancing away. Despite his irritation at being woken so early his mouth curved into a gentle smile. Mark's tap dancing had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. Indeed some of his earliest memories were of being danced around the lounge in his father's arms as Mark practised a new routine for some charity event or other. As Steve stood there the music faded into silence and so did the tapping.  
  
Turning Mark saw his, still sleep rumpled offspring , leaning against the door frame watching him. He smiled, "Hi son. You are up early."  
  
"Yes, I am aren't I?" Steve replied, looking down at his fathers, tap shoe shod, feet.  
  
Mark's eyes followed Steve's, "I'm sorry did I wake you?" he was apologetic.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I didn't realise that you'd be able to hear me."  
  
"So," asked Steve, "what's with the early morning tap routine dad?"  
  
"The Annual Children's Centre benefit concert. They are a little short of volunteers to take part, so I said I'd do a little something," he paused and looked hopefully across at his son.  
  
Correctly interpreting that look, Steve held up both hands in front of him saying, "Uhuh. No way. Absolutely not!"  
  
Grinning, Mark said, "Don't mince words son. Say what you mean."  
  
"Dad, I barely survived with my dignity, not to mention my life intact after your magic routine, intact the last time. Forget it." He turned and walked back through the house calling over his shoulder," I'm going for a shower, see you later."  
  
****************  
  
He could see her through the frosted glass of the second floor bathroom window. She was moving backwards and forwards across the room, obviously preparing to go out.  
  
He had noticed her a couple of weeks back when she had parked her car next to his at the market. He had known from the outset that Francis would love her and he made it his business to find out all about her. Personally he found nothing attractive in her, she was always flaunting herself wandering around in next to nothing. He thought that she deserved everything she was going to get. He stood there, deep in thought, for a few minutes. Looking upwards to the sky, his head on one side as if listening to something, he smiled again and said, as if in answer to an unheard question, "Yes, I'll send her to you tonight."  
  
Thrusting a hand into one of his jacket pockets he curled his fingers around the hilt of the knife that lay nestled there.  
  
Slowly he walked towards the building all the time keeping his eyes on the naked figure behind the glass, pulling thin rubber gloves on as he went. Entering the building he made his way stealthily up the stairs until he reached her door. He pulled out a long, thin metal lock pick and grasped the round handle jiggling the point of the pick in the lock until he heard a soft click. Slowly and deliberately he turned it, pushing the door open. Quietly, effortlessly the door swung on its hinges and he stepped inside. From across the room he could hear splashing mingled with the sound of relaxed, happy humming. Walking in the direction of the sound he drew nearer to the bathroom door. As he reached out for the handle the splashing from the other side ceased, to be replaced by the unmistakeable sounds of a body getting out of the bath. Drawing the knife from his pocket, he opened the door and stood there in the doorway. The young girl in front of him was wrapped in a large ,fluffy pink towel and she had over her head a pair of earphones. From the way she was swaying it was obvious that she was listening to music. Suddenly she shivered as a draught of cold air from the open door sent icy fingers running across her shoulder blades. She turned and saw him standing there, knife poised. Her eyes opened wide in fright and the towel she had wrapped around her dropped to the floor through nerveless fingers. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream as the knife plunged deep into her heart and she fell, lifeless, back into the bath her life blood slowly turned the water pink. Reaching into another pocket, he drew a small ragged piece of paper out, carefully inserting it into a plastic bag. This he taped to the bathroom mirror and, without a backward glance, exited the bathroom. As the door clicked shut behind him the phone began to ring, echoing into the deathly silence.  
  
******************  
  
Steve was at the precinct house when the phone on his desk rang. Placing his pen down he picked up the receiver , "Sloan here," he listened for a while and then said, "I'm on my way."  
  
Arriving at the murder scene some twenty minutes later, the first thing greeted Steve was the sight of a young man in grey slacks and a light blue shirt that was soaked and stained with blood. He sat, shaking, on the edge of a chair his face the same colour as his trousers. The uniform officer who had been standing over him, moved towards Steve who asked, "What do we have here?"  
  
" A Caucasian female, stabbed in the bath. Her boyfriend was concerned when she didn't turn up for their date," he jerked his head in the direction of the young, shaking man, " so he came over here and found her."  
  
"Has CSU been called?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"Yep, they are on their way."  
  
Walking across the living space, Steve pulled on a pair of thin rubber gloves. . He stopped in the doorway and surveyed the scene. In front of him he saw a light blue bath that was filled with, seemingly, pink water. In the bath was a girl's body , blood seeping sluggishly out of a jagged wound in her chest. As he gazed around the small, beautifully decorated room Steve's gazed alighted on the note taped to the mirror. Moving nearer he leant forward to read what was on it. They read 'scarlet billows start to spread'. The edges of the paper were ragged, as if they had been torn rather than cut and Steve saw what looked like a couple of straight lines running across the top of the words.  
  
Hearing some more people enter the room he turned and greeted Del Mooney, CSU operative. Leaving them to do their work Steve moved back into the living space to talk to the young man he had seen earlier.  
  
Sitting on the sofa next to him Steve said, "My name is Lt. Sloan, can you tell me who you are?"  
  
Looking up at Steve through tear stained eyes the young man spoke, " I'm Terry Williams. I am Vanessa's boyfriend," his head turned in the direction of the bathroom before continuing quietly "I……was her boyfriend."  
  
"What made you come over this evening?" Steve questioned, taking out his notebook and pen ready to take down the answers.  
  
"We had a date, we were going to see Keanu Reeves new film. Vanessa loves his stuff. We had arranged to meet outside the cinema as my last class was quite late tonight. She didn't turn up so I phoned, but there was no answer. I decided to come over to make sure that she was okay. I opened the door and came in. There seemed to be no-one here so I looked in the bathroom and that's when I saw her," Terry dropped his head in his hands and took a couple of large gulps of air, trying not to vomit, before continuing, " At first I didn't realise what had happened. She still had the earphones on and her eyes were closed, so I just thought she'd fallen asleep. It was only when I got nearer that I saw the knife wound and the bleeding."  
  
"Did you touch anything?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
" I tried to pull her out of the bath but I was shaking too much."  
  
"We will need to take your fingerprints Terry, so that we can eliminate them from our enquiries. It's just routine," Steve tried to reassure the young man as he looked up with deepened apprehension in his eyes.  
  
Just as he finished speaking to Terry another figure entered the room, Amanda Bentley, Assistant Coroner. Standing up Steve walked across to her.  
  
"What do we have Steve?" she asked.  
  
"A stabbing victim. Young, white and female. She was apparently getting ready for a date with her boyfriend over there."  
  
"Is he a suspect?" Amanda queried.  
  
"We can't rule him out," Steve replied, looking back at the young man, "but I seriously doubt if he did it. The colour on his face when I arrived can't be put on, he was truly shocked at what he had found."  
  
"Has anyone called an ambulance for him? He looks like he could go into shock any moment."  
  
"I'll get right on it," Steve promised, calling out to one of the uniformed officers, " Call an ambulance for Mr. Williams and find a blanket for him in the meantime."  
  
After completing a preliminary examination of the body Amanda reported to Steve that the girl had been dead for at least a couple of hours from a stab wound to the heart. She conjectured that death would have been instantaneous. "There doesn't seem to be any sign of a struggle so that would either imply that she knew her assailant or she was taken completely by surprise. I'll be able to let you know more sometime tomorrow." she concluded.  
  
"Lieutenant?" a voice called.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow Amanda," Steve said, squeezing her arm as he turned towards the voice, "Yes?"  
  
"We've finished photographing the note. Here's a Polaroid of it, we'll let you have the original once we've fingerprinted it."  
  
"Thanks," Steve pocketed the photo and turning, saw the paramedics dealing with Terry Williams. He walked over to them and said, "How is he?"  
  
"I think he's going to need to go to Community General Lt."  
  
"Okay," Steve knelt down in front of Terry and said, "These guys are going to take you to Community General for a thorough check-up. I'll follow in my car and meet you there. Once you have been seen and are settled then I will need to ask you some more questions."  
  
"What about? I don't know anything else?" Terry's voice was tinged with anxiety.  
  
"I just need a bit of background about Vanessa. It's nothing to worry about." Steve assured him.  
  
Leaving the CSU team to continue their work and having set the uniformed officers to 'door knocking' Steve left the compact apartment following the ambulance and pulling into the hospital car park a bare ten minutes after they did.  
  
Making his way to the ER, Steve stopped at the desk to enquire about Terry Williams.  
  
"He's in with Jesse at the moment Steve," came a familiar voice from behind him.  
  
Turning round Steve saw his father standing there, "Hi dad. Can I see him yet?" he asked.  
  
"Not for a little while son. Let's have a coffee and you can tell me what's happened. I'll make sure that Jesse knows where we are."  
  
Steve made his way to the doctors lounge, poured himself a mug of coffee and sat waiting for his dad to arrive. He had pulled out the photograph of the note and was trying to make sense of it when the door opened and Mark came in. He walked across the room and, like Steve, poured himself some coffee before lowering his body into one of the easy chairs that were dotted around. He took a long draught from the mug before looking across at his son and asked, "So, what's the deal?"  
  
"His name is Terry Williams, but I guess you know that already, and he found his girlfriend dead this evening. She had been stabbed in her bath."  
  
"Poor kid," Mark shook his head in sympathy, " No wonder he looked so bad. Jesse will sort him out though and be along soon. I expect that we will admit him, at least overnight, just to keep an eye on him."  
  
Mark looked at Steve, who was looking into the middle distance with a thoughtful look in his eyes.  
  
"What's up Steve? You don't think he did it do you?"  
  
"No I don't dad. There was a cryptic note left taped to the bathroom mirror and I was trying to figure out what it means."  
  
"What did it say?" Mark asked.  
  
"Scarlet billows start to spread," replied Steve.  
  
Mark's brow furrowed in concentration, "I feel like that ought to mean something to me," he said and sat there for a couple of minutes, "No, nothing. Never mind, I know it will come to me."  
  
Just then the door opened and Jesse entered the room. He too poured a mug of coffee, flopped down onto the large sofa and drained his mug in one long, parched gulp. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, Jesse let out a long sigh of relief at having both his thirst quenched and an infusion of caffeine at the same time. Mark and Steve looked at each other with indulgent smiles on their faces and, as one, with a gentle, coaxing tone to their voices called, "Jesse!"  
  
Opening one eye, Jesse looked over at the grinning Sloan men and answered it with one of his own.  
  
"Hi, guys. Did you want something?"  
  
"How is Terry Williams Jess?" Steve asked, "Can I talk to him?"  
  
"Not tonight Steve, he was really very distressed so I've given him a mild sedative."  
  
Steve sighed, this was a part of police work that he hated, waiting to be able to talk to a witness. As an experienced detective he knew that, in a murder investigation time was always of the essence but, being the son of a doctor, he also knew that there were times when he had to wait. He also knew that everytime he had to ask personal and painful questions at a time in someone's life when they could least cope with it.  
  
"When can I see him Jess?" he asked.  
  
"In the morning will be plenty soon enough," Jesse replied.  
  
Just then Steve's phone rang. "Sloan here," he said in his usual no- nonsense manner and then listened for a while, "Okay, thanks. Keep me informed."  
  
Mark and Jesse regarded him with interest, "They've discovered the girls name, it's Vanessa Donovan. Apparently she comes from Ohio. They found an address for her parents in a notebook and they are being informed by their local officers."  
  
He looked at his watch , "There doesn't seem to be anything else I can do tonight. Uniform are doing an initial door to door and if anything turns up I'll follow up on it tomorrow. Has your shift finished yet dad?"  
  
"Another half an hour son and then I'll be on my way home," replied Mark, "Tell you what, you swing by Bobs and get us some ribs. Jesse and I will be along soon."  
  
"Okay. See you later," Steve said, standing up and making his way to the door before turning back and saying, "At least you didn't try to con me into cooking."  
  
*************  
  
It was a week later and Steve was no closer to finding Vanessa Donovan's killer than on the night she died. A detailed forensic sweep of her apartment had yielded no fingerprints other than the victims and her boyfriend. None of her neighbours had seen or heard anything suspicious which seemed to confirm Amanda's view that she had died instantaneously and hadn't made a sound. The position of the pink towel on the floor seemed to add further fuel to the view of a surprise attack. Speaking on the phone to Steve, Del Mooney expanded his theory, "The towel was wet Steve and just seemed to have been dropped in the middle of the floor. I think that she was already out of the bath and was in the middle of drying herself off. We checked the towel and found some fresh flakes of skin on it that match the victim. Also there were the footprints on the floor. Initially they were facing away from the door, but over the top are marks that indicate she turned on her heels to face the other way. Perhaps she heard a noise and turned to see what it was."  
  
"Okay, I'll buy that you're the experts, but why didn't she struggle?" Steve queried.  
  
"Have you ever heard of the phrase 'petrified by fear'?" Del asked, "Some people, when faced with extreme danger don't respond with the classic 'fight or flight'. Some lose all ability to think, move or make any form of sound. The wound in her chest was clean, not jagged. I don't think that she was moving when she was stabbed, she was 'petrified'."  
  
At the other end of the phone Steve frowned for nothing he was hearing gave him any help at all, "Thanks Del. Let me know if you find anything else." Putting the phone down, Steve shut his computer down, turned his lamp off and made his way home, pleased that the next day he had free.  
  
Waking up the next morning Steve still felt very unsettled about the lack of progress in the Donovan murder. Luckily for Steve, Mark had plans for him that were to keep him well occupied. He had been so wrapped up in the case that he had forgotten it was Dion's birthday and that Mark had offered the beach house as a venue for the party. It was Dion's first birthday since being fostered by Amanda and everyone wanted to make it a memorable one for him. Steve, along with Jesse, had been given the task of keeping both Dion and CJ occupied whilst Mark and Amanda prepared a sumptuous birthday feast. They had chosen to teach the boys how to surf and had whisked them off to Steve's favourite surfing supply store to hire suits and boards for the day.  
  
Taking a few minutes away from food preparation, Amanda stood leaning on the balustrade that encircled the decking and watched her sons at play. She saw Dion fall off his surfboard and disappear under the waves only to be scooped up a bare second later by Steve and thrown high into the air. He fell back into the sea and Amanda could see that he was so laughing so hard that he could hardly fight his way back to the surface. She sighed, it was at times like this that she was acutely aware of the pitfalls of raising two boys without a constant father figure. Mark, Steve and Jesse were wonderful with the boys and they loved them dearly, but they all had their own lives to lead. It was difficult and sometimes lonely but Amanda knew in her heart that she would only bring someone into the boys lives if it was absolutely right.  
  
"Amanda?" Mark's voice broke into her thoughts and, shrugging them off, she turned to smile at him.  
  
"Everything is ready inside," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the Steve, Jesse and the boys, "Do you think they have had enough yet?"  
  
"Look at them Mark," Amanda smiled, "Do they look as though they have had enough?"  
  
Mark looked out over the sand towards the sea and the four happy, playful figures, "No I don't think they have. Tell you what, lets make a pitcher of lemonade and take it down there to them."  
  
Later that afternoon, when they were all cleaned up and fed, the boys sat on the sofa in the lounge being royally entertained by Mark as he gave them a preview performance of his tap routine for the benefit concert. They applauded loudly as he finished and Dion said, "That was great Uncle Mark. Can you do some magic tricks now please?"  
  
"Sure I can boys," Mark agreed, ever happy to entertain an appreciative audience. He reached into his pocket and brought out a handkerchief which he rolled up into a tight ball. He tucked it deep into the palm of one hand and made a fist of the hand. Leaning forward he asked Dion to blow on his fist which he duly did. Keeping up a flow of chatter, specifically designed to draw the boys attention away from his hands, Mark lifted his fist up to his ear three times counting, "One! Two! Three!". On three he quickly let go of the handkerchief and it flew over his shoulder and high up into the air coming to rest, unbeknownst to Mark, on the top of the beautiful glass light shade above his head. Mark, meanwhile had brought his hand back down and opened his fist to show the boys that the handkerchief had disappeared.  
  
"Wow, Uncle Mark that was great," CJ, the younger of the two boys, was particularly impressed.  
  
Mark meanwhile was intrigued to hear muffled snorts of laughter coming from behind him. Sending the boys to the kitchen for drinks he turned to find Steve, Jesse and Amanda suffering from varying degrees of hysterical laughter. Jesse, seemed to be deeply affected and was curled up in a little ball on the floor from where he was, apparently, unable to move. Even Steve, who was a notoriously hard sell when it came to his fathers magic tricks, was holding his sides in agony with tears running down his face. Mark looked from one to the other asking, "What are you laughing at?" Realising that he wasn't going to get an answer from either Steve or Jesse, Mark looked to Amanda to provide some measure of enlightenment. "Amanda, what is so funny?"  
  
For an answer all Amanda could do was to point to the light shade where the handkerchief, as it uncurled, was gradually slipping down . As Mark looked up, the handkerchief relinquished its tenuous hold on the shade and floated gently down coming to rest on his face. Pulling the handkerchief from his face ,Mark looked at his son and friends with a rueful grin on his face, "Maybe I ought to incorporate that into my magic act for the benefit concert, it would bring the house down."  
  
Between hiccoughs of laughter Jesse said, "Oh Mark, you couldn't recreate that moment. Some things are just funny the once and that was one of them."  
  
By the time the boys returned from the kitchen everyone had regained some measure of self control.  
  
Standing up Amanda said, "I think we'd better go. You two need to get to bed, you have school tomorrow."  
  
"Yes mom," chorused Steve and Jesse from the depths of the sofa, onto which they had sunk breathless.  
  
Giving them both a look that she usually reserved for CJ and Dion, Amanda said to Mark, "I'll leave you to deal with your two schoolboys whilst I take mine home," walking over she laid her hands on Marks shoulders and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, "Thanks for a wonderful day and thanks for entertaining the boys……………and me."  
  
*****************  
  
Mal Trescott was happy. He had just gained a promotion, which meant loads more bucks in his wallet. Maybe at long last, he thought, he and Trish could seriously think about getting married. Walking along Mal decided that he'd buy Trish a present and slowing his pace he began looking in the windows of the stores he passed hoping that something would catch his eye. So intent was he on finding just the right gift that he was totally oblivious to the figure, all in black, following him.  
  
*************  
  
He had known as soon as he had woken that day that Francis wanted a new companion for the words were spinning around in his head. After eating his meagre breakfast he sat by the single window sharpening and polishing his knife. Holding it up to the light he saw a spot of dried blood just by the handle. "I'm sorry Francis," he said, rising and moving across to the small sink in the corner of the room, "I'll clean it up right away." When it was cleaned to his, satisfaction he sat back down again. Reaching across the table, he carefully placed the knife in one outside pocket of his black jacket. Leaning sideways, he picked a sheet of paper up off of his bed and began to read. Halfway down the page he stopped, smiled and ripped a small section from it placing it in a small plastic bag before depositing it in the same pocket as the knife. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves he strode out of his room in search of Francis' next companion.  
  
Mal had finally decided to buy Trish a charm bracelet, a little old fashioned perhaps, but then he was an old fashioned kind of guy. He was already planning in his mind that he'd buy Trish a charm in every anniversary. Standing with his nose almost touching the window of the jewellery store Mal was unaware of the black clad figure that had come to stand right behind him. Stepping back to enter the store Mal felt a sharp stabbing pain in his lower back. He gasped in surprise and his hand automatically reached round to the site of the pain. Bringing his hand back, a few seconds later, Mal was stunned to see blood covering his fingers. The shock of the attack and the sight of the blood took its toll and, his eyes rolling up in his head, Mal collapsed gently to the sidewalk. The man in black bent down and tucked a small plastic bag into one of Mal's jacket pockets before stepping over the prone man and walking away.  
  
******************  
  
Jesse threw his rubber gloves into the bin, relieved that his patient had survived long enough to be transferred to the OR. Running tired fingers through his hair he looked around the now empty trauma room. In the corner a bloody jacket caught his eye. Walking over he bent down and grasped it with a couple of fingers. As he stood upright bringing the jacket with him a small plastic bag fell out of one pocket and floated gently to the floor. Bending down again, Jesse picked it up and carefully scrutinised the contents. As soon as he read the words on the enclosed scrap of paper Jesse's eyes widened and he knew that he had to phone Steve.  
  
Once again Steve's half hearted attempt to clear his desk of its back-log of paperwork was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Picking up the receiver he said, "Sloan here."  
  
"Steve, it's Jesse," came a familiar voice in his ear.  
  
"Hi Jess, what can I do for you," Steve replied.  
  
"You know the stabbing of that girl a couple of weeks back?"  
  
"Yeah," Steve's answer was a little short, he hated being reminded of unsolved cases.  
  
"I think he's struck again," Jesse informed him.  
  
"What!!" Steve sat bolt upright in his chair, whilst at the other end Jesse held the phone away from his ear.  
  
"We had a stabbing victim in this afternoon. After we sent him to the OR I noticed his jacket in the corner of the room and picked it up. A small plastic bag fell out of the pocket. There was a note in it and it looks similar to the other one."  
  
"Don't touch anything Jess," Steve ordered," I'm on my way."  
  
Arriving at CG a short time later Steve immediately sought out his friend. He found him in the doctors lounge taking a well earned break cradling a cup of coffee in his hands.  
  
"Where's the note?" he demanded as soon as he entered the room.  
  
"Hello to you too," quipped Jesse pulling the plastic bag out of his pocket and handing it over.  
  
Walking across to the natural light given by the window Steve looked closely at the note. Jesse followed him standing so close that Steve almost knocked him over when he moved.  
  
"So," Jesse asked, "is it the same as before?"  
  
"Without a lab check I can't be 100% certain," Steve was cautious, "but I think you are right Jess."  
  
He read the note out loud, "Lies a body, oozin' life'. Now what on earth does that mean?"  
  
"Well, he was found on the sidewalk outside a jewellers shop and he was losing a lot of blood."  
  
"Do you think he's going to make it?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"He's got a good chance," Jesse replied, after some consideration.  
  
"I'd better get back to the station and compare this note with the other one," Steve said, "this may not be a murder investigation yet, but if the notes do match then we've got a pattern emerging."  
  
"Ok, I'll let you know how our patient gets on."  
  
"What's his name by the way?" Steve queried as he reached the door.  
  
"Mal Trescott."  
  
"Thanks Jess, see you later."  
  
*************  
  
Back at the station Steve signed the original note from Vanessa Donovan's murder out of the evidence locker and sat down behind his desk to see if he could make a comparison. It didn't take him too long at all to make a visual comparison, but he knew that he would need to pass the second note on to the lab for a more detailed check. He decided to speak to Captain Newman and have the case transferred to him. Captain Newman, having a very high regard for Steve's deductive abilities and intuition, readily agreed to this course of action. He contacted Detective Logan, the officer assigned to the assault and arranged for Steve to meet with her later that afternoon.  
  
A couple of hours later Detective Maria Logan entered the squad room in search of Lt. Steve Sloan. She was a little intimidated , for a couple of reasons. She had only recently been transferred from uniform to plain clothes and was still a little unsure of herself and her abilities. She had also, along with many other people, heard about Steve Sloan. She entered the room full of trepidation and tapping a uniformed officer on the shoulder asked to be directed to Steve. Following the pointing finger towards the desk where Steve was sat Maria's eyes opened wide. Holy cow! He was even better looking that people said. Taking in a deep breath she walked purposefully across the squad room and stopped in front of Steve's desk.  
  
"Lt .Sloan?" she enquired.  
  
Steve looked up into a very pretty, but obviously nervous face. He rose and smiled, "I'm Steve Sloan, what can I do for you?"  
  
"My name is Detective Logan. I've been told to pass over the information I have on the Trescott stabbing," her voice, despite her nervousness, took on an edge for she wasn't happy at having her first big case yanked out from under her.  
  
Understanding her irritation Steve gestured to a nearby seat saying, "Let me explain. A couple of weeks ago there was a stabbing in which a young woman was murdered. At the scene we found a note in a small plastic bag," he pushed the first note across the desk for Maria to look at.  
  
Continuing Steve said, " The doctor who treated Mal Trescott at CG today found this note," passing the second one across, "when it fell from the victims jacket pocket."  
  
"Why didn't he ask to speak to the officer assigned to the case?" she asked.  
  
"Ah," responded Steve ruefully, scratching his forehead with his thumb, "I suppose you could say that's my fault."  
  
Maria raised her eyebrows.  
  
"The doctor I mentioned, Jesse Travis, is a good friend of mine who sometimes helps out on my cases, along with my dad," Maria opened her mouth to say something but she forestalled her by continuing with a , "Don't ask. Anyway, he knew about the note from the murder and figured that I'd want to see the second one."  
  
"So what does it mean?" Maria wanted to know.  
  
"It means we have a serial killer on our hands," Steve responded.  
  
"But my victim is still alive," Maria protested, then looked Steve squarely in the eyes and continued, "unless you know something I don't."  
  
Steve looked up from scanning the documents Maria had brought, to say, " No he was still alive the last time Jesse and I spoke," he tapped a report in front of him and said, "I see there is a witness. Do you want to come along?"  
  
"Yes, I would Lt.," affirmed Maria.  
  
"Okay, let me just set it up and we'll be on our way."  
  
A few minutes later he returned the receiver to its cradle, sat back in his chair and looked across at Maria, "It seems like we have some spare time on our hands. The witness, a Mr. Jonathan Tucker, isn't available until 7pm. So," he said looking at his watch, " Can I interest you in some ribs?"  
  
"Sounds good to me," Maria agreed, " Have you heard of a place called BBQ Bobs? I hear it's really good and apparently it's owned by a cop."  
  
Suppressing a grin, Steve rose scooping up his jacket from the back of the chair and said, "BBQ Bobs it is. Lead the way."  
  
To his amusement, Maria kept up a flow of conversation from the precinct to Bobs about how fantastic the restaurant was meant to be and that she didn't know how a cop could afford it on his salary or even how he found the time.  
  
*************  
  
Jesse, who had gone to Bobs after his shift had ended, looked up as he heard the door open. He smiled as he saw Steve enter the restaurant.  
  
"Hey Steve," he called from behind the counter, as his friend walked towards him followed by a very attractive young woman, " You'll be pleased to hear Mal Trescott survived the surgery and is in ICU, but he should make a full recovery."  
  
Steve was relieved, "That's good news Jess. When do you think I can talk to him?"  
  
"Perhaps tomorrow," Jesse looked past Steve and his eyes rested on Maria, who had come to a halt at Steve's shoulder and smiled at the pretty young woman standing there.  
  
Realising his oversight Steve stood to one side and said, "Jesse this is Detective Maria Logan. Maria, this is Dr. Jesse Travis, a good friend and business partner."  
  
"Business partner?" Maria looked from one man to the other, a little confused.  
  
"Yeah, Steve and I own this place. Didn't he tell you?" queried Jesse.  
  
"No, he didn't," Maria retorted, turning to face a grinning Steve.  
  
"I'm sorry," he apologised, not looking in the least apologetic, "Let me make up for it and buy you dinner."  
  
"Alright," Maria agreed, "but don't think that you are totally off the hook."  
  
Holding a chair out for her to sit on, Steve grinned at her response,. Young and inexperienced she may be, but she wasn't going to let him get away with anything. Sitting and chatting over their rib dinner, Steve discovered that Maria had always wanted to be a police officer and that the day she received her detective shield had been the proudest of her life. Inwardly he smiled, it seemed an awfully long time ago since he had felt that level of bubbling enthusiasm. Experience tended to dull that a little, he thought. The most interesting revelation was the number of questions that Maria asked about Jesse, most notably, whether or not he was available.  
  
Deciding that, when the time was right, he'd pass that snippet of information onto Jesse, Steve put his final, bare rib down and said, "I guess we'd better get going."  
  
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, Maria agreed and followed Steve out of Bobs, giving Jesse one last look as she went through the door. It didn't take them long to reach the residence of the witness and both stood by the front door as Steve rang the bell. The door was eventually opened by a slightly chubby, balding middle-aged man. He looked at the two people standing framed in his doorway. Steve held up his ID saying, "Lt. Steve Sloan and this," indicating Maria, "is Det. Logan. We are here to talk about the stabbing that you witnessed earlier on today."  
  
Jonathan Tucker's brow cleared and he stepped back saying, "Of course, come on in. I'd like to help in any way that I can."  
  
He led Steve and Maria to the lounge and gestured for them both to sit down on the sofa, before occupying a single seat opposite. "So," he said, looking from one to the other, "what do you need to know?"  
  
"Just tell us what you saw Mr. Tucker."  
  
Jonathan Tucker sat for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts before answering, " I was walking along, going from one meeting to another. There was a young guy looking in a jewellers window and another man, dressed all in black, stopped right behind him. The young guy stepped backwards and the next thing I know he had collapsed on the floor, bleeding."  
  
"Did you actually see the second man stab the first?" Maria asked, giving Steve and anxious look in case she was overstepping the mark. His smile of encouragement showed that she wasn't.  
  
"I saw a glint, like the sun reflecting off of something shiny, but I didn't actually see the knife," Jonathan paused thoughtfully for a second and then continued, "There was no-one else near the victim though."  
  
"What did the second man do then?" prompted Steve.  
  
"It was odd. He bent down towards the young man on the floor, I thought he was going to rob him, but instead he put something in his pocket."  
  
"Did you see the attackers face at all?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
"For a few seconds."  
  
"If we got a police artist along here, do you think you could describe him?" Steve asked.  
  
"I'd give it a go," Jonathan Tucker responded.  
  
Much later Steve and Maria left to go back to the station. Maria asked, "Do you think that this sketch will help?"  
  
"I don't know. We'll run it through the database and hope for the best." Steve replied, "We can also check it for known serial attackers who leave notes on their victims."  
  
"But surely they'd all be in prison?" Maria asked.  
  
"Most are , but some slip through the net and are never caught, whilst others get parole. I know," he continued after receiving a disbelieving look from Maria, "the system doesn't always work in our favour."  
  
After setting the database search in motion Steve drove home tired, but slightly more encouraged than he had been 48 hours ago. Seeing the lights shining through the gaps in the decking above him, Steve climbed up the stairs to have a chat with his dad.  
  
"Hi son," Mark looked up from the book he was reading, "Good day? Bad day?"  
  
Flopping down onto one of the spare seats Steve answered "Bit of both really."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"There was another attack, but this time there was a witness who has been able to give us a description." Steve replied.  
  
"Another attack?" Mark queried, "Was that the stab victim that Jesse dealt with this morning?"  
  
"Yes it was," Steve answered, looking across at his dad, "You don't happen to know how he is , do you?"  
  
"I don't but I can check if you'd like," Mark offered, picking up the phone that was laying on the table next to him."  
  
At Steve's nod of assent Mark dialled CG. "Hello, Dr. Sloan here. Can you put me through to ICU please?" whilst waiting to be out through Mark placed his hand over the receiver and asked, "what is his name?"  
  
"Mal Trescott," Steve answered.  
  
"Right," Mark's attention was drawn back to the phone, "ICU? This is Dr. Sloan. Can you tell me how Mal Trescott is doing?" he was silent for a while and Steve could hear a tinny sounding voice through the receiver. Then Mark said, " Thanks," before putting the phone back down on the table.  
  
"Well?" Steve demanded.  
  
"He's doing okay. He came round after the operation but is sleeping naturally now." Mark stopped speaking for a while, then a thought struck him, " Why do you say it was by the same attacker?"  
  
"There was another note that Jesse found."  
  
"What did it say?"  
  
Steve thought for a moment, trying to remember and then replied, "Lies a body, oozing' life."  
  
Mark repeated the phrase quietly to himself and then said, "Remind me of the first one son."  
  
"Scarlet billows start to spread," looking keenly at his dad who was frowning in concentration, "Any flashes of inspiration?"  
  
Slowly shaking his head Mark said, "I know it should mean something and it's right there at the back of my mind. No, I can't get it. Never mind, I'll let it rattle around for a while and I'm sure it will come."  
  
"Let me know when it does Dad," Steve said, standing up, "I'm off to bed now, I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Making his way downstairs to his unit Steve walked into his bathroom. Pausing only to shrug off his clothes he stepped into the shower and turned on the water letting the hot liquid cascade over his torso and down his muscular legs to disappear, like his tension, down the drain. A few minutes later he stepped back out and wrapping a towel around his waist, padded back into his bedroom. Drying himself off, Steve pulled on a pair of sweat pants and climbed into bed, falling asleep almost instantaneously.  
  
****************  
  
Once again, Steve was destined for frustration and annoyance in the investigation of Mal Trescotts attack. It was a week later and, yet again, there had been no further leads.  
  
"I've got no idea where to go next Jess," Steve grumbled to his partner, who was leaning over the counter at BBQ Bobs, " No-one has recognised the sketch, there were no prints on the note and Mal Trescott hasn't been able to give us any help. I'm worried that this guy is going to kill again before we can catch him."  
  
"Steve, you can't do anymore than you are," Jesse assured his friend.  
  
One of the many traits that Steve shared with his father was a profound sense of frustration when things didn't go the way they wanted. They both hated not being able to solve a mystery, be it medical or criminal. "That doesn't exactly make me feel any better Jess," he grumbled.  
  
Thinking that it was about time he changed the subject Jesse changed tack to his second favourite pastime, baiting Steve about a girl. "So how are getting on with Detective Logan?" he asked stepping back a pace to be out of range if Steve decided to cuff him round the head.  
  
Steve's reply was a little distracted, " Mm? Maria? Oh, she's fine. Quite enjoying working homicide actually."  
  
The silence that followed finally penetrated his consciousness and Steve looked up to see Jesse with his trademark grin all over his face. Steve rolled his eyes in a gesture of near disgust as he said, "Jess! C'mon she's a kid!" then his devil got the better of him and he replied, "Besides, she interested in this other guy. Can't see it myself, but there's no accounting for taste."  
  
Jesse took the bait, "Who?"  
  
Having hooked him, Steve reeled him in, "You pal," and walked off leaving Jesse, for once, with nothing to say and a look of wonder on his face.  
  
****************  
  
It was early in the morning and the persistent ringing of the phone awoke Steve. His hand snaked out from under the covers, where he was warm and snug, to fumble for the receiver. Picking it up he mumbled, "Sloan."  
  
"Newman here Steve. There's been a body dragged out of the ocean and I want you there."  
  
Forcing his eyes open Steve said, "Captain, it's my day off. Can't someone else go?"  
  
"I think you'll want to be there Steve. The body had a note pinned to it."  
  
By this time Steve's attention had been fully gained and he stay bolt upright in bed, the covers tumbling down around his waist. "Where is it?" he asked and on receiving the information continued, "I'm on my way."  
  
Pushing his covers fully off, Steve threw himself into the shower and was out of his unit within thirty minutes of being woken.  
  
Pulling up next to a coroners wagon sometime later Steve stepped out of his car and strode across the sand towards a small square of beach that had been cordoned off with the usual red and white striped tape. Ducking underneath he was unsurprised to see Amanda Bentley, Assistant Medical Examiner, kneeling by the body. Becoming aware of a familiar presence beside her she smiled and, without even looking up, said, "Hi Steve. I guessed I'd see you here."  
  
"Yeah," replied Steve, still a little disgruntled at having to work on his day off. He nodded down at the corpse and continued, "so what have we here Amanda?"  
  
"A white male, stabbed, wrapped in a tarpaulin and weighted down by cement bags," she paused before continuing, " and there was another note. I'll be able to give you more details later."  
  
"Okay. Thanks Amanda, let me know." Steve looked around and saw Maria Logan a few metres away talking to a guy in fishing gear, "I'll see you later."  
  
Trudging across the sand towards them Steve hailed her, "Maria, good morning. What have you got?"  
  
Indicating the man beside her Maria said, "Mr. Jefferies was out fishing early this morning and his line snagged on our dead body. He dragged it into the boat, made for shore and called the police."  
  
"Have you got the note?" Steve wanted to know.  
  
Maria fished an evidence bag out of her pocket and passed it across to Steve who looked down at a , now familiar sight. A small, printed note with ragged edges. Steve noted, with interest, those odd horizontal lines again. Turning his attention to the words he read 'cement is for the weight'. He sighed, where on earth was this guy coming from? A thought suddenly flashed across Steve's brain and he clicked his fingers. On hearing the click Maria turned to face him, "What?" she asked.  
  
"I've just had a thought about these notes. They look very similar and they all have the same, odd horizontal lines on them. It just occurred to me that they may be from the same piece of writing. So I'm going to go home and get my dad to key all the notes into the computer and do a search on the Internet."  
  
"Your dad?" Maria.  
  
"My dad is the Internet expert," Steve said before admitting, "I can just about figure out how to turn the darn thing on. After that, I'm lost."  
  
"Okay," said Maria, grinning at the thought of Steve Sloan, the Internet novice.  
  
Waving a farewell to Amanda, who was still examining the body, Steve climbed back into his car and headed back to the beach house. Taking the wooden steps to the decking Steve called out, "Dad! You in?"  
  
From inside the house Mark's voice could be heard, "In here son."  
  
As Steve entered the lounge his ears were, once again, assailed by music. Stopping for a second Steve listened to the singer. It wasn't a voice he recognised, he thought to himself, although it was a very good voice. Walking in Steve nodded in the direction of the stereo and said, "Who's that dad? Not heard him before."  
  
"It's a CD that Carol bought for me when she was in London recently," Mark answered, "He's a young British singer. Robbie Williams."  
  
"It's a new CD?" Steve queried, " but that sounds like a Sinatra song to me."  
  
"That's the beauty of it. A young, modern singer with a love of Sinatra, Martin and Davis. He sings them so well," enthused Mark.  
  
Suddenly an arrested look came across Mark's face and he dashed across to the stereo.  
  
"What is it dad?" Steve asked.  
  
Pressing a button to replay the previous song Mark said, "Listen."  
  
Walking nearer to a speaker Steve listened and heard a familiar few words, 'Scarlet billows, start to spread'  
  
Steve's eyes widened as he recognised the words from the first note. Then, as the song progressed, he heard the words from the second and the third. As the song finished and Robbie's voice faded into silence Steve and Mark looked at each other.  
  
"A serial killer using the words of a song to choose how and where to murder?" Steve was incredulous, "Now I've heard everything!"  
  
"Stranger things have happened Steve, you should know that." Mark replied.  
  
"If he is following the lyrics then it seems likely that there is at least one more murder on the cards." Steve said.  
  
"One more?" Mark said, "but there are four murders in the song and he has only attacked twice so far."  
  
"Three times dad," corrected Steve, taking the third note out of his pocket and passing it across to him, " A fisherman dragged a body out of the water today and it had another note pinned to it."  
  
Looking at the note Mark said, "I take it the body was weighted down with cement?"  
  
"Got it in one dad,"  
  
"Do you know anything about the victim yet?" Mark wanted to know.  
  
"Not yet dad. Amanda is going to do the autopsy and will let me know what she finds. There wasn't any identification on him so, hopefully, we'll be able to get something from the fingerprints or the dental work."  
  
"What's Detective Logan doing?"  
  
"I left her on the beach questioning the fisherman who pulled the body out of the ocean. I don't think that he'll be able to tell us much though."  
  
"What are you going to do in the meantime?"  
  
Looking at his watch Steve said, "Well, technically, it's my day off so I think I'll get my board out and catch a few waves. It will clear my head a little and it may help me see this case a little clearer."  
  
******************  
  
The next morning, after the best nights sleep he had had in ages, Steve arrived at the station for his shift. Maria was already there, poring over a couple of reports. She looked up as Steve entered the squad room, "Morning boss," she smiled, "We've got an ID on the stabbing victim from yesterday."  
  
"Who was he?"  
  
"His name was Michael Williams and he was a realtor in Glendale. He was unmarried and, so far, we haven't come across any relatives."  
  
"Any obvious link between him and the other two cases?"  
  
"Not so far Steve, but we haven't covered all the bases yet." Maria replied.  
  
Just as Steve sat down behind his desk, the phone rang and he picked it up, "Sloan here."  
  
As he listened, Steve's face changed and his expression lightened by a few degrees. He reached across the desk for a pad and quickly scribbled an address on it.  
  
"We finally seem to have caught a break in this damn case," he said, "there was a partial thumb print on the note this time and AFIS has thrown out a match, one Michael Heath."  
  
"I assume, from that, he has a record." Maria commented.  
  
"That's the odd thing," mused Steve, " given what he's doing now you'd think that he'd have a string of convictions but he hasn't. There was one minor assault charge about ten years ago and then nothing."  
  
"Do we have an address for him?"  
  
Waving the bit of paper he had written on under her nose Steve said, "We sure do. C'mon on."  
  
As they drove Steve filled Maria in on what he and Mark had discovered the previous day. Their drive took them into one of the more run down areas of LA. The apartment buildings they passed were in serious need of repair, the paint flaking from every surface with vast majority of windows broken. Pulling up outside a particularly shabby building, they got out of the car and walked cautiously inside. The address they had proved to be on the third floor. They climbed the stairs, carefully stepping over months of accumulated waste , some of which didn't bear a first glance let alone a second.  
  
"Phew!," Maria wrinkled her nose in disgust, "I'm glad I skipped breakfast, otherwise I might be re-cycling it by now."  
  
"Mmm," mumbled Steve, trying not to breathe too deeply himself.  
  
Taking the final turn they found themselves in a long, equally ghastly, corridor. Checking out the numbers on the doors nearest to them Steve led Maria to the right towards a green, peeling door. Motioning for her to stand to one side, Steve took station at the other side. He pulled his gun from its holster, as did Maria, and reaching across rapped sharply with his knuckles on the door. "Michael Heath? Open up, police!"  
  
There was no answer. Steve waited for a while and then knocked again. Still silence.  
  
Coming to a decision Steve brought his gun up and stepped in front of the door. Raising his right leg he gave the door one swift, decisive kick on the lock and it flew open. Crouching down, to minimise any target area, he made his way into the room. Scanning the room it became obvious that it was empty and Steve motioned for Maria to follow him. Looking around her Maria said, "What a dump! How can anyone live like this?"  
  
"You expected something better after passing that stuff on the stairs?" Steve replied.  
  
It took them no time at all to search the room. How long could it take to check a bed, a small cupboard and a table? It was the walls of the room that caught their immediate attention. Almost every square inch was covered with pictures of Frank Sinatra and the other members of the Rat Pack.  
  
"Wow," exclaimed Maria, "Does this guy like Sinatra or what?"  
  
The only piece of furniture to give them any help was the table. On it Steve found a pile of sheet music. Picking the top one up he looked at it and read, Mack the Knife. Now he understood the significance of the horizontal lines on the notes, they were from the music above the lyrics. Out of the corner of his eye Steve saw a flash of white on the floor underneath the table. Bending down he saw four further sheets of manuscript with pieces ripped out of them. He carefully picked them up and placed them in the largest evidence bag he had. He hoped that the rips on the notes would match the rips on the sheet music. It was only as he sealed the evidence bag and was about to place it in his pocket that the number of ripped sheets penetrated his consciousness. There were four pieces of paper and, so far, they had only found three notes! Looking at an unspoilt sheet Steve scanned it and quickly found the verse he was looking for. It told of a man called Louis Miller, withdrawing his savings and was murdered. That was a great help Steve thought cynically. There could be hundreds of Louis Millers and any one of them could be withdrawing savings. A thought suddenly crossed his mind. Maybe he was coming at this from the wrong angle. What if Heath wasn't going to go after a Louis Miller? What if he was just going to go after someone withdrawing money? So far the attacks had happened within a mile radius of the apartment building they were in. It stood to reason that Heath would stick to the area that he knew so, maybe, he'd go after someone taking money out of a bank close by.  
  
Leaving the room they went back to the car and Steve called for another detective to stake out the building just in case Heath returned. He and Maria returned to the precinct and began, yet another, computer search although this time it was for banks within a mile radius of Heath's building. Again they lucked out, because it was such a run down area there were only half a dozen banks.  
  
"Who'd want to have a bank there?" Maria commented wryly.  
  
Within a couple of hours all six banks were staked out, each officer having a copy of the drawing of Michael Heath from the second attack. The day that followed dragged. There was nothing more boring, Steve felt, than sitting in a car waiting. He looked at his watch, 4.30pm. If Heath didn't turn up soon they'd have to start all over again in the morning. Slowly one minute followed another and just as he was about to give up he saw him. A black clothed figure was hovering just outside the entrance to the bank. Lifting the radio to his mouth Steve spoke, "All units. Suspect has been spotted outside Providence and Mutual . Dressed all in black. Requesting silent back-up, we don't want to spook him too early."  
  
Before getting out of the car he alerted Maria, who was posing as a customer in the bank. "He's outside Maria. Dressed in black. Just keep him in sight, I'm coming over."  
  
As Steve was halfway across the road, however, he saw Heath move towards a middle aged man coming out of the bank. The next second the man was on the floor blood spurting from a wound and Heath was leaning over him. Steve yelled "Hey!" pulled his gun out and began to run. Heath, bending over the fallen man, jerked upright, looked across at the running Steve and ran. Maria, by this time, has come out of the bank and Steve, running past her yelled, "Call an ambulance and stay with him."  
  
By this time Heath had disappeared around a corner into an alleyway. Reaching it Steve slowed down and approached the turn with some degree of caution. Just because Heath had always used a knife on his victims that was no reason to assume he didn't have a gun. Peering around the corner, Steve saw that the alleyway was a dead end. Realising that Heath couldn't go anywhere and without waiting for back-up Steve entered the alleyway. Dotted all the way along were large rubbish bins that were overflowing. Cautiously he made his way past the first one gently kicking at the debris lying there to make sure Heath hadn't hidden himself in it.  
  
He was halfway along the alleyway when it happened. From above him Steve heard the metallic sound of a escape ladder dropping down. He turned towards the source of the sound and, before he could do anything, was on the receiving end of a ferocious kick to the jaw and his gun clattered across the concrete. He staggered backwards, stunned ,dimly aware of a black clad figure jumping down to stand in front of him. Shaking his head to try to clear his vision Steve felt, rather than saw, the knife swishing down towards him. He put up his left arm to stop it and his arm exploded in pain as the knife slashed through the skin and into muscle. Resisting, barely, the urge to cradle his injured limb Steve reached across with his good arm and grabbed hold of Heath's arm effectively stopping him from slashing at Steve again. For a couple of minutes they struggled. Just as Steve was beginning to feel weak from blood loss he heard running footsteps enter the alleyway and he heard a female voice call out, " Drop the knife Heath or I'll shoot."  
  
Obviously uncaring of the shouted threat Heath continued to attempt to slash Steve again. Suddenly a shot rang out and the knife fell from Heath's grasp as he dropped to the floor holding his knife hand in agony. His vision clearing a little Steve saw Maria Logan walking carefully along the alleyway, her gun unwaveringly trained on the man now writhing on the floor. Leaning down to Steve, whose knees had finally given way and was sitting on the floor holding his bleeding arm.  
  
"Are you okay?" Maria asked.  
  
"Close enough," Steve replied, nodding towards Heath, "Cuff him will you? Then call an ambulance."  
  
**********  
  
Jesse was finishing signing some reports when the doors to the ER opened. The trolley that came through the door held Heath's final stabbing victim. Unfortunately the victim had lost too much blood too quickly and had died in the ambulance on the journey to Community General. The EMT's that wheeled him in said to Jesse on the way past, "There are two more on the way in. A stab victim and a gun shot wound."  
  
"Thanks," Jesse replied, always glad of a few minutes in which to gather the things he would need around him.  
  
All too soon he heard the wailing of the sirens that undoubtedly heralded the arrival of the next two patients. He had already called for assistance, knowing that he couldn't deal with a stabbing and a gunshot at the same time and Mark had already arrived. As the doors opened two patients were wheeled in, one stranger and one very well known figure.  
  
"Steve!" exclaimed Mark, rushing over to his son.  
  
"I'm okay dad." Steve assured him.  
  
"Let me see," said Jesse, interrupting, " you deal with the gunshot Mark. I'll deal with your son."  
  
"Okay," Mark agreed.  
  
For a while there was little talk in the ER as Jesse and Mark dealt with their respective patients. Steve's injury wasn't as serious as Jesse first thought and he was able to stitch it up in the ER. Heath, meanwhile, needed to go to the OR to have the bullet extracted. When he was all stitched up and resting, Steve asked if Maria Logan was about.  
  
Jesse said, "I'll go and look for her."  
  
Twenty minutes later and Steve was just beginning to think that he'd have to go and look for himself when the door opened and in she walked, followed closely by Jesse who had a smug grin all over his face. Looking at his friend Steve asked, "What have you been up to Jess?"  
  
"Nothing," replied Jesse, his fleeting glance at Maria and large grin belying that statement, "I've got to go, I'll see you later."  
  
As the door shut behind Jesse, Steve looked at Maria and said, "Who was he talking to there, me or you?"  
  
Maria flushed to the roots of her hair and said, "Me."  
  
Grinning Steve said, "Good for Jesse."  
  
Attempting to turn the conversation onto a neutral tack Maria asked, "So how are you Steve? Is the injury really serious?"  
  
"Nothing that won't let me get back to work in a couple of weeks," he assured her, "By the way, nice shot back there. So, how is Heath?"  
  
"He's okay. They've got the bullet out and he's in recovery with a police guard."  
  
"How is the guy he stabbed?" Steve asked and, on seeing Maria shake her head continued, "Damn!"  
  
Just then the door opened again and Mark entered. Maria looked up and said, "I'd better go so that the doctor can examine you."  
  
Steve chuckled and said, "I'd rather you stayed Maria. This isn't a doctor here to examine me. This is my dad here to chew me out for getting injured."  
  
"Again!" said Mark, although the serious tone in his voice was belied by the twinkle in his eye. Turning to Maria he held out a hand and said, "Hi, I'm Mark Sloan. You must be Detective Logan."  
  
Reaching out to shake the proffered hand Maria replied, "It's Maria. I've heard a lot about you Dr. Sloan and I'm pleased to finally meet you."  
  
"The feeling is mutual Maria," replied Mark, "and it's Mark. Dr. Sloan makes me feel ancient."  
  
Hearing a snort coming from the direction of his son Maria turned and looked at Steve who said, "Nothing can make you feel ancient dad. Not even all those candles on your cake last year."  
  
"Just wait till I get you home," threatened Mark, turning to leave, "I'm just going to find Jesse to see when I can do just that."  
  
Staring, for a few seconds in amazement, at Mark's retreating back Maria turned and said to Steve, "Are the two of you always like that?"  
  
"Pretty much," admitted Steve.  
  
"Wow," was the only reply Maria made.  
  
*************  
  
Steve was, much to his continued disgust, still recuperating at home. He had tried insisting that he was okay to return to duty but Captain Newman had, unknown to him, spoken to Jesse who had told him otherwise. So he was stuck at home with nothing to do but listen to music, read, watch TV and wish he could get his board out to catch some waves. The only respite he had was when his dad came home from work. He hadn't seen a lot of Jesse, who was busy pulling extra shifts at Bobs or spending time with Maria, not to mention his day job at Community General.  
  
The front door opening and shutting brought Steve's musings to an end and he looked up to see Mark walk through the lounge followed by Captain Newman.  
  
"Steve," Captain Newman began, "I thought I'd come over to give you an update on the Heath case."  
  
"I appreciate that sir," Steve replied.  
  
"We were getting nothing out of Heath so we had a shrink come in and take a look at him. As you probably gathered from what you saw in his room, Heath is obsessed with Frank Sinatra and he was convinced that Francis, as he calls him, was telling him to send him people to sing to through the words of that song. He really doesn't see that he has done anything wrong," pausing for a moment to take a sip of the coffee that Mark had quietly placed in front of him, "I don't think he will ever go to trial. His lawyers are making a good case for him to be institutionalised and I think they'll manage it."  
  
"At least he'll be off the streets for a good long while," said Mark.  
  
"Hopefully forever," put in Steve.  
  
"We can but hope Steve. Well I must go," Captain Newman said standing up and looking down at Steve, " and don't come back until you are fully recovered."  
  
"Don't worry, he won't," commented Mark showing him to the door.  
  
**************  
  
  
  
Two weeks later  
  
Mark peeked out through the curtains and smiled, the auditorium was full. That was great, it meant that the Children's Centre was really going to benefit this year. He looked round and saw Steve, Amanda and Maria sitting in the front row. They caught him peeking out and Amanda smiled at him encouragingly, she knew how nervous Mark got before performing in front of an audience. The curtains opened and the show began. Over the next hour and a half acts of all shapes, sizes and quality made their way on and off the stage. Mark was the last scheduled performer and his tap dancing drew its deserved applause. Mark stayed centre stage ,held up his hands for silence and gradually the applause died away.  
  
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen," he began, "both for your applause and your support this evening. It means a great deal to everyone concerned and many children's lives will be the richer for tonight's event. We have one more song for you this evening which is to be sung by young friend of mine. It is a special song to him and I will let him explain."  
  
The lights on the stage flickered out to leave the stage in complete darkness. Footsteps were heard walking quickly on and off the stage. A few seconds later a pale blue spotlight came on to reveal a single chair in the centre of the stage against which leant a guitar. Onto the stage walked a slightly nervous looking Jesse Travis. He picked up the guitar and sat down on the chair adjusting the mike so that he could talk and sing into it. He coughed nervously and began, "I'd like to sing this song for a couple of reasons. I believe that this evening is very important and I am proud to have played a small part in it. Also, I would like to dedicate this song to a very special lady that has come into my life over the past few weeks."  
  
For a few seconds Jesse was silent as he looked down into the front row. Then he began gently strumming the strings of his guitar and began to sing his gentle, sweet voice easily carrying throughout the auditorium. "Maria, I've just met a girl named Maria.........."  
  
Down in the front row, Maria Logan heard very little of the song past the first line for she was too busy sobbing into a handkerchief hastily thrust into her hand by Amanda.  
  
Later that evening the whole gang, including Maria, had returned to the beach house for a nightcap.  
  
Jesse had taken Maria onto the beach for a quiet walk in the moonlight. Holding hands they walked quietly along the sand until Jesse stopped, turned to Maria, wrapped his arms around her and said, "I meant every word of what I sang tonight Maria. I know it's probably too soon, but I love you."  
  
"I love you too Jesse," responded Maria as she leant into his embrace. 


End file.
